


(She) Needs

by iaj



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 05:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19882633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaj/pseuds/iaj
Summary: Being given a vow of silence and being able to live with a vow of silence are two very different things. There is a process, to becoming a DC Handmaid.





	1. Safety

“No one shall be subject to torture or to cruel, inhumane, or degrading treatment.” - UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 5.  
  
Safety: protection from the elements, security, order, law, stability, freedom from fear.

* * *

Gilead was a quieter place than the USA had ever been. A constant cacaphony of traffic, talking, electronics ringing and beeping, radio, advertisements, and all the rest had disappeared as if the volume had simply been turned down on the world.   
  
In most areas of Gilead, the days were long stretches of silence, punctuated by the occasional siren of an ambulance or fire service, and an even-more-occasional passing of a silent car - whether it be driven by a neighbour or an Eye was left to the imagination, so each quiet rumble of a car spread silence wherever it went  
  
Even so, DC was quieter still. Ofwilliam was newly named - her Commander would be in DC, for the first time ever, though she had a successful posting previously - and it was her first time seeing the capitol since the revolution. The loudest thing she heard the entire drive there was the coughing of the DC-area Aunt who had accompanied her; she didn’t seem much different to the local Aunts Ofwilliam knew - middle-aged, stern, and patronizing.  
  
“Now,” The DC-Aunt began, “We’ll be arriving at the Finishing School shortly. Handmaids who pass additional training through the Finishing School are moved to placements in DC,” she said.  
  
“What kind of additional training, Aunt?” Ofwilliam asked quietly.  
  
“The Handmaids in DC take a vow of silence,” the Aunt replied. “It is not easy, being silent, but the blessings are many in reward. You are trained in living with the vow. You will learn about that later.”  
  
Ofwilliam returned to silence, knowing that for the dismissal it was.  
  
The car quietly turned through a series of small streets - left, right, left, left, and then Ofwilliam lost track - before reaching a large old school building with a red door. A high chain-link and barbed-wire fence surrounded the block, starting on the sides of the school building. There were old basketball courts and a small running track, but they were overgrown and few of the original lines for the court and the track remained.  
  
“Here we are,” the Aunt said. Eyes approached the car from the edge of the street, and one helped the Aunt up; another grabbed Ofwilliam’s arm, and dragged her out of the car and to her feet. “She’ll go into vow-giving,” the Aunt told the Eyes.  
  
Ofwilliam was marched through the red door, into another bubble of silence. The three footsteps - hers, and the Eyes at either side of her - seemed deafening as they echoed back and forth in the concrete halls.  
  
The door they took her to was unmarked; inside, they led her to a clinical-style lounge chair that was fixed in the middle of the room, and shackled her to it.  
  
What kind of vow required shackles? Ofwilliam’s heart started pounding, fast. What did they need this table for?  
  
Her heart did not slow down when the Aunt from the car entered.  
  
“This will all be over soon,” she said warmly to Ofwilliam, lifting another strap and wrapping it over the handmaid’s neck, holding her down flat.  
  
Then the Aunt placed a cover over her eyes, like one used to sleep on planes before this all. Ofwilliam could hear every beat of her frantic heart as she listened to the room. There were some steps, and a door opened, and then some additional steps and voices of more Aunts.  
  
They grabbed her lips, maneuvering and holding. Ofwilliam tried to hold her mouth closed, but strapped down there was no use. She felt them clamp her bottom lip, and the Aunt that had been there to start with said, “hold still, dear. This will pinch for a moment,” before they moved.  
  
Ofwilliam’s world narrowed to the sharp stab and pressure through her bottom lip. She gasped involuntarily when the clamp was removed, leaving a long, hollow needle in her bottom lip.  
  
“Good girl,” the first Aunt said. “Now another. Hold still.”  
  
They did another, to the right of the first. It hurt more the second time - her bottom lip felt hot and sore, and she could feel her pulse there. Every time they moved her lip to place the clamps, the sharp sting of the existing ones kicked up into a short burst of agony.  
  
By the time they had pierced her bottom lip three times, she could feel hot, wet tears sitting between her skin and the blindfold.  
  
“Very brave. We’re half way done now, dear,” the Aunt said. They grabbed her top lip. Ofwilliam felt like she was about to faint - she couldn’t seem to get enough air in her lungs. She must’ve fainted, too, because next thing she seemed to know she was having her blindfold removed, and the Aunt shook her shoulder gently.  
  
Ofwilliam began to ask what had happened, and was staggered by the amount of pain in her lips as she tried to open them.  
  
“Don’t try to speak, dear,” the Aunt said. “Your lips are sealed. They hurt right now, I’m sure, but they should hurt less within a day or so. The less you pull against them, the faster they will heal - the healing time is about a month. For that month, you’ll be staying here,” she explained as she undid each of the heavy leather straps in turn. “Try to sit up, dear, but don’t stand yet. Fainting is not uncommon. Take it slow.”  
  
Ofwilliam reached up to touch her mouth and the Aunt grabbed her wrist before she could.  
  
“Don’t touch,” the Aunt said. “Hands are dirty, that’s how infections happen. Now try to stand,” she instructed.  
  
Ofwilliam did, although she felt like she was on stilts - she could barely feel the ground through her feet. She felt like she was floating.  
  
The Aunt grabbed a damp bit of gauze and wiped it against Ofwilliam’s chin. The cold felt soothing against her burning lips. It came away tinged pink, and the Aunt placed it into a yellow biohazard bin beside the door.  
  
“Good, you seem steady,” the Aunt said. “I’ll show you to your cot.” She opened the door out into the hallway, and took Ofwilliam by her arm, leading her out. Ofwilliam felt each step not in her body, but through her lips; a momentary sting brought on by every vibration, however faint, from the rest of her body.  
  
She was walked further down the hallway, past some more closed doors - old classrooms, with the labels and windows blanked with white paint - and then entered a large gym hall. It seemed identical to the old one, to Ofwilliams blurry gaze - the same rows of white-sheeted cots against a background of dining hall chairs and tables, and Aunts posted at each door. There were no Handmaids here, at this moment; they must’ve been in a class, or at prayer.  
  
“Have a rest, dear,” the Aunt said, leading her to a bed.   
  
Ofwilliam moved on autopilot. She realised her hands were trembling as she tucked her skirt behind her legs and sat. The Aunt instructed her to lie down and have a nap, and she lay back, closing her eyes.  
  
Her face throbbed and her lips felt hot. The sting had faded, now that she was lying still. The post-adrenalin crash left her limbs leaden, and sleep quickly took her.


	2. Sustenance

“Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and wellbeing of himself and of his family, including food,” - UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 25.  
  
Physiological needs: These are biological requirements for survival, eg. air, food, drink, shelter. If these needs are not satisfied the human body cannot function optimally.

* * *

When Ofwilliam woke up, it was to the sound of a dozen shuffling steps, and nothing else. She opened her eyes and realised an Aunt - the same one as earlier - was standing over her, silhouetted by the light from the high windows of the gym.  
  
“Good, you’re awake. Get up and join the line, dear,” the Aunt said.  
  
Ofwilliam was disoriented, the nap still clinging to her - she stood up and took a moment to look around for where she was to go. The sight of the other Handmaids rooted her to the spot.  
  
There were eight other Handmaids, none of them familiar to her, standing in a line against the wall. Each Handmaid had three stainless steel piercings curving from their top to their bottom lip, holding their mouths shut. They were in various states of healing - some seemed relatively new, still red and with small scabby crusts around the bar, while others looked a lot more comfortable. The others looked as shell-shocked as Ofwilliam felt.  
  
Ofwilliam could only assume that she too had the three vertical bars. She had yet to see her own face, or touch it even.  
  
“Go on,” the Aunt chided. Ofwilliam quickly walked to the wall. She longed to take a breath through her mouth, her chest tight with near-panic, but even trying to part her lips to breathe through them was acutely painful. If she left it still, she almost couldn’t feel it, since the nap.  
  
Once Ofwilliam was in place, the Aunt directed the person closest to the dining area (a small, red-headed woman), “Alright, ladies, sit at the tables,” and the line began to move. Ofwilliam seated herself on the bench at the end of the long line of dining tables, watching the women around her for her cues.  
  
Now that she had some time to get over her shock, she could see that the room wasn’t identical to the old training centre - it was smaller, with only about twenty beds, and with outdoor benches instead of school desks for dining. The routine of sitting for a meal was still the same.  
  
Ofwilliam glanced around the table and the Aunt moved away and tapped a few girls on the shoulder, directing them to bring the lunch. As the four red figures moved away, Ofwilliam tentatively caught the eye of the woman opposite her, whose ‘vow of silence’ still looked red and new. There was nothing reassuring about the other woman’s wide-eyed look.  
  
The four chosen handmaids returned with trays, and began to move around placing a glass bottle with a plastic straw in front of each handmaid. When one reached Ofwilliam, she picked up the bottle and looked at the liquid - it looked like some kind of protein shake. Ofwilliam guessed it was probably a meal replacement, like they’d give to people in hospital when they couldn’t eat.  
  
“Alright, girls, you have twenty minutes for lunch,” the Aunt called. The others picked up their glasses and Ofwilliam watched her neighbour, wondering how to drink with her new vow.  
  
The others had taken their drinks and placed the straw in the corner of their lips, avoiding the rings as much as possible. Ofwilliam scrunched her eyes shut at the sting as she copied them - even that distant little movement still hurt. After a moment, she started to drink, keeping the straw fairly far in her mouth to avoid pressure on her lips. The meal replacement didn’t taste of anything in particular - it was a little sweet, but not very, and didn’t seem to have any flavour to mask the chalky taste. It was heavy in Ofwilliam’s stomach, too - but she felt steadier once she started to drink, and figured she probably needed the food.   
  
They were brought cups of water at the end of the meal, to rinse their mouths out, using the same plastic straws again to drink. The cups and bottles were collected by Aunt-selected Handmaids, who returned with what looked like a bowl of water and a few cotton buds for each of them. Ofwilliam felt the outside of the bowl that was placed in front of her, and found it was lukewarm.  
  
The Aunt walked to Ofwilliam’s side. “After each meal, and after waking, we wash our lips with saline to encourage healing. Hold the bowl up to your face and let your lips soak in the water for a minute or two - then pet them gently dry with gauze.”  
  
Ofwilliam did as instructed, and she was thankful that she had. The warm saline seemed to ease the pain a lot. She sat and counted sixty seconds in her head as the saline eased her pain.  
  
She heard another Handmaid put down her bowl of water at 58 seconds. Two seconds later, Ofwilliam did the same. Through the gauze, she gingerly patted her face dry. She could feel them, now - three bars, each end with a short turn that went directly through the skin.  
  
She felt nauseous, suddenly. She tried not to think about what would happen if she vomited. If she was lucky, it would come out of her nose; if she was unlucky, she might drown in her own vomit here.  
  
Ofwilliam focussed on the Aunt to distract herself. The Aunt walked down towards the further tables with purpose. “Ofgeorge!” She barked. “You’ve been warned already about loud hands. If you do it again, you will be punished.”  
  
Ofwilliam glanced down to the target of the Aunt’s words, in time to see a handmaid - presumably Ofgeorge - lower her hands flat on the table. The Aunt nodded, satisfied, and turned to address the entire group.  
  
“Your rest time is from now until prayer before dinner,” the Aunt said. “You are dismissed,”  
  
The group stood almost as one, moving towards the cots to lie down. Ofwilliam followed their lead.  
  
Her stomach rumbled as she lay down. She couldn’t help but think about food. As much as she had dreaded some of the disgusting meals they served at the old training centre, living on meal-replacement smoothies wasn’t the same as eating real food.  
  
Unlike the old centre too, there were no whispers. The Rachel and Leah centre had been full of barely-there whispers, the girls speaking to each other in bursts, especially at rest times.  
  
There were no sounds at all.


	3. Rest

“Everyone has the right to rest and leisure,” UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 24.  
  
To Rest: to cease work or movement in order to relax, sleep, or recover strength.

* * *

The ground was hard and unforgiving under Ofwilliam’s knees during their prayer class, before dinner. They knelt in a circle around an Aunt - a different one from earlier - who said the prayers. The prayers were the usual ones:  
  
“Blessed be the fruit! May you open these girls’ to your blessings, O Lord!” the Aunt called out loudly, her voice just a little raspy. Where in the last training centre they would’ve paused to allow the Handmaids to chorus ‘Amen’, she continued without stopping: “We give thanks for the food we had this day, and ask for your protection from Evil, O Lord!”  
  
One advantage, Ofwilliam thought, was that it made the prayers go faster. Maybe it only felt that way because she was free to doze off, unable to respond even if they called on her.  
  
But the pain in her knees dragged her back from daydreams more than once, and she wasn’t able to forget her new vow - her lips were still sore, aching around the piercing entries rather than stinging and burning indiscriminately. But they were also cold - the chill from the room seemed to pierce right through them. She supposed it did - the metal got cold, and the metal pierced.   
  
The third time she tuned back into the prayers, she realised that they were nearly over.  
  
“Heavenly Father, bless these girls in their holy duty,” the Aunt said, and to Ofwilliam’s dismay, she continued past the usual end of the prayer, “and give them strength in their holy vows of silence. Reward them for their many sacrifices and give them the strength to continue… Amen,” the Aunt finished.  
  
Ofwilliam waited until the other girls began to rise before she slowly stood, stretching her aching knees into standing position.  
  
The group of red-dressed girls converged together, and Ofwilliam joined at the back of the line as they walked back to the gym hall.  
  
The original Aunt - her name was Mary, Ofwilliam had overheard an Aunt call her that - was waiting in the dining room. The tables were already set with another glass bottle and straw for each handmaid.  
  
They drank their meals in silence, the same way that they had lunch. Ofwilliam was glad to know that they would be brought water after they drank, because the chalky mix did not get any more palateable with time.  
  
Aunt Mary tapped some girls on the shoulder to get the water to drink, after the meal, and Ofwilliam was able to wash away the taste. The girls then replaced their empty cups with bowls of warmed saline solution.  
  
The saline eased the pain, the water softened the crusted fluid around the piercings, and the warmth took away the biting chill of the metal on Ofwilliam’s lips. After sixty seconds, she gently dried her face with patted gauze, and placed the bowl of saline down. The chosen handmaids for this meal - not the same ones as last time, Ofwilliam noticed absentmindedly - gathered up the bowls and carried them away.  
  
“Bedtime,” Aunt Mary called warmly, as if she were talking to a group of small children.  
  
Ofwilliam followed her sisters’ lead and walked back to her bed, taking off her outermost dress layer to sleep in the white under-clothes. She lay down and watched Aunt Mary turn off the lights.  
  
In the summer evening light, most of the room was still visible, but dim. Ofwilliam tried to catch the eye of the woman in the bed beside her - a blonde-haired, short and heavy-set woman. Eventually she did, although aside from meeting her gaze, the other handmaid gave no response.  
  
Ofwilliam wiggled her fingers in a small wave, and the other woman shook her head with one small movement.  
  
Ofwilliam recalled Aunt Mary’s chastisement to one of the other girls earlier - _“You’ve been warned about loud hands”_ , the Aunt had called.  
  
Hand signs were a violation of the vow of silence, then. _Loud hands_.  
  
Of course they’d thought of that.  
  
Ofwilliam didn’t know which emotion she felt, but she cried a few silent tears to release stress if for any reason. She wondered if tears counted as saline solution for peircing cleaning - probably not, she decided, because how could they be sterile? The train of thought almost helped her get a hold of her emotions before her mind reminded her why she needed saline.  
  
The thought of the room - the blindfolds, the restraints, the clamps and needles - brought a fresh wave of tears. She had no idea what they had done until later - she was just shellshocked from the pain of it all. Why hadn’t she struggled, at all? Why had she tried so hard to avoid punishment in training, if this was her reward for being quiet?  
  
She cried herself into exhaustion, face pushed against the pillow of her cot. She took care not to sniff, or breathe oddly, or do anything to draw attention to herself - but the tears still ran.  
  
When she slept, she found herself back in that room, tied down again. Her mouth hurt; they were putting more rings there. She tried to scream and struggle, but her body was paralysed. They clamped a spot on her bottom lip, and she-  
  
-woke up in a cold sweat. It was darker, now. Ofwilliam didn’t know how long she’d been asleep; it could’ve been an hour or six, for all she knew.  
  
Her eyes felt sore and raw from her crying fit before sleep, and her lips hurt from her lying with her cheek pressed against the pillow.  
  
She rolled on her back, and found that suddenly she couldn’t breathe through her nose - snot from her crying fit blocked her nose. She tried to breathe and felt like she was being suffocated, lips and nose held shut.  
  
She rolled and to her relief, the pressure subsided, and her nose cleared. She sniffed, an unceremonious snort which at least cleared her airways, although it left her wanting to clear her throat too.  
  
Between the pain in her lips, and the inability to breathe through her mouth, Ofwilliam did not manage to fall asleep for what felt like an eternity. When she did, it seemed like not even a moment passed before the morning bell jerked her out of sleep.


	4. Belonging

“Everyone has the right freely to participate in the cultural life of the community, to enjoy the arts and to share in scientific advancement and its benefits,” - UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 27.  
  
Belongingness: The need to belong is the need to give and receive attention to and from others.

* * *

Testifying was an uncharacteristically quiet ordeal for DC Handmaids. The chants of “she did” and “sinner” were gone; mute pointing and accusing looks were all they could do. It was the only time Ofwilliam had seen, in her three days of being in DC, where they were allowed to point.  
  
The Handmaid in the centre of the circle was familiar to Ofwilliam - she had seen the woman in meals, in classes, and generally around. But when Aunt Mary said, “Ofjohn, testify,” it was the first time she had heard the other’s name.  
  
Not that Ofjohn was her name, of course, but even an Of-name was something to refer to someone with.  
  
“You have sinned with your hands, Ofjohn,” Aunt Mary said. “It took us some time to get to your testimony, thanks to the new girls, but we have got here. Tell me the truth - did you use your hands to sign to Ofneal?” Aunt Mary asked.  
  
Ofjohn nodded once.  
  
“Let me tell you what you did, Ofjohn,” Aunt Mary said, standing at Ofjohn’s shoulder. The other handmaid looked down at the floor, away from the Ofwilliam and the rest of the handmaids seated around her. “You signed to Ofneal, and you were caught,” Aunt Mary said. “Ofneal signed back, and she was caught. That was her third strike. Thanks to you, Ofjohn, she lost her place here. Thanks to you, she will go to the colonies to work out her life as a failed handmaid. Thanks to you, another person has fallen from God’s glory,” Aunt Mary’s voice grew louder and louder as she gave her impassioned speech.  
  
“And,” Aunt Mary continued, “You had a finger removed, for your own second strike,” she said. “Let that remind you to obey your vow of silence.”  
  
Then Aunt Mary looked around at the group. “Who is responsible for Ofneal’s banishment?” She prompted the Handmaids.  
  
Ofwilliam copied her neighbours, pointing but making no sound. Mentally, she could hear the chant they would’ve said before - there was no need to actually say it. _She is, she is, she is._  
  
Ofjohn looked flat and sad to Ofwilliam's eyes at the centre of the pointing group.  
  
“And who caused Ofjohn to lose her finger?” Aunt Mary asked the group. Again, they pointed. _She did, she did, she did_ hung in the air, words unsaid but very much present.  
  
Aunt Mary nodded. “And who here is guilty of the sin of breaking her vow of silence?”  
  
Again, they pointed. Ofwilliam couldn’t help but think of the irony of that. They weren’t allowed to point, unless it was for the purposes of shaming one of their sisters.  
  
Aunt Mary dusted off her hands and nodded, content with the display. “Now it’s exercise time, girls - go do your walking.”  
  
Ofwilliam rose with the rest of the group, and joined the back of the line leading out the door. The entire group walked from the classroom, through the gym and out to the heavily-fenced patch of grass.  
  
They walked in pairs. Ofwilliam foud herself beside the blonde woman whose cot was beside Ofwilliam’s in the gym. Names didn’t really seem to matter, when the name was false in the first place and none of them could speak, so she nicknamed the woman ‘Blondie’ in her head as they fell in step together.  
  
Blondie’s pierced lips looked almost fully-healed, and Ofwilliam could only assume she had been there for several weeks already. She had been the one to warn Ofwilliam not to wave, two nights earlier. Ofwilliam had thought, then, that Blondie might’ve been a true believer.  
  
The walk proved otherwise. As soon as they were out of sight of the Blondie tapped her on her arm softly, and began to sign. She made a walking figure with her fingers, then pointed towards the next corner ahead and made praying hands, and then a ‘no’ finger-wag.  
  
Ofwilliam had no clue what that meant. She moved to make a questioning sign, but Blondie made the ‘no’ finger wag again. They walked for a minute or so before they rounded the corner, and there were two Aunts posted on the walking route.  
  
After they passed, Ofwilliam caught Blondie’s eye, and made the ‘praying hands’ sign again before gesturing back where they had come from with her thumb. Blondie nodded.  
  
 _Praying hands is for Aunts_ , Ofwilliam thought. _I guess the ‘no’ is warning not to be caught signing by them._  
  
Blondie made the sign a few more times throughout their walk. In one area she did it, Ofwilliam would’ve never noticed the green-clad Aunt watching them through a second floor window.  
  
But that was the only communication they could have. Blondie tried to mime something a few times, but all that Ofwilliam could make out was that she was asking about something to do with time. Ofwilliam’s own attempts to communicate were no more effective.  
  
Their hour of walking was done in no time, with next to no progress. None of the handmaids seemed to know any sign language, or if they did, Ofwilliam had no idea what it looked like. They just subtly gestured at one another, and Ofwilliam had no idea if or how anyone was understanding their walking partner. It happened in bursts, behind trees or before corners, in the brief times they were out of direct sight - there was never enough time.  
  
When the short line of paired handmaids returned to the gym, Aunt Mary directed them to their seats, and they sat in silence while she chose the ones who would collect their ‘meals’. Ofwilliam took her customary spot on the end of the table.  
  
As they were handed the chalky smoothies, Ofwilliam glanced down the table. Most handmaids - Blondie included - kept their eyes down on the table, and communicated nothing. A duo of handmaids seated next to each other on the other side of the table were glancing up, too. Their lips weren’t much more healed than Ofwilliam’s, so she suspected they had only arrived before her by about a day.  
  
Aunt Mary’s hand landed on her shoulder, and Ofwilliam fixed her gaze on the table in front of her. It was cheap - linoleum printed to look like wood over plyboard tables. In some spots the print was sanded back to the grey undercoat; Ofwilliam suspected the tables were from an old school here, and they’d removed graffiti, but it wasn’t as if she could ask anyone.  
  
Aunt Mary moved away, and Ofwilliam glanced at her back as she walked toward the two others who had been looking up. Ofwilliam did not risk glancing again, but from the corner of her eye she saw the dark silhouette of Aunt Mary place her hands on the shoulders of the two others.  
  
Ofwilliam’s world narrowed to the space on the table in front of her. The other Handmaids might as well not have existed; she drank her meal, rinsed her mouth with water, and then soaked her piercings in the saline that was brought to her.   
  
She hadn’t realised how much her lips were hurting, until they stopped. The presence of the bars across her lips had stopped distracting her after only the three days that had passed - she no longer noticed the cold piercing through them. It was impossible to forget the inability to open her mouth, but her mind had distanced her from the feeling of the piercing, at least.  
  
  
After lunch came their rest time. In the old centre, Ofwilliam might’ve gone into the bathroom and whispered through the hole in the stalls to one of her sisters-in-training. Or she might’ve lay down, eyes closed, and whispered quiet conversations with the other fake-sleeping girls in the gym, never loud enough for the Aunts watching from the edges of the room to hear.  
  
Ofwilliam lay on her cot and glanced over at Blondie in the cot beside her own. Blondie met her gaze and held it. Ofwilliam glanced at the walls and saw the Aunt-supervisors at the doors, quietly waiting to punish any infractions.  
  
Ofwilliam felt anxiety curl in her gut. Once as a child, she had been told a scary story about a person cursed so that nobody else could see or hear them. It was too long ago to remember the details - she had been only five or so, and her brother barely any older, but he had terrified her with spooky stories in the torchlight while their parents were roasting dinner on the fire.  
  
For a long time, she had nightmares of that. The first had been the night she was told the story, but they continued long into her teen years. She’d be at home, or at school, and it would be like normal - but then she would speak, or do something, and nobody would acknowledge her. Sometimes the dream was just that - but sometimes she dreamed of fire engulfing her room, and she’d run to wake her family but they would not wake. They’d wake, coughing, as the fire entered their room. Sometimes they escaped out the windows, leaving their ghostly daughter behind, unseen, to burn. Those were the worst of the dreams.  
  
Ofwilliam curled on her side with her back to the Aunts, and found herself staring blankly forward. They could not touch or be touched; they could not gesture; they could not speak; they could not read or write; they could not move freely. Although she still had a body, she felt like the ghost she had dreamed about. Her breath began coming fast, although she kept her panic quiet enough to avoid the Aunts’ notice.  
  
Blondie opened her closed eyes and met Ofwilliam’s gaze again.  
  
It wasn’t enough. Ofwilliam wanted to grab the other Handmaid and feel her solid warmth, feel that they were physical and real and not ghosts. Ofwilliam wanted to talk, to chatter, even just say ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ and all the little meaningless things they’d still been permitted at the old training centre. Hell, Ofwilliam wanted to say, “Under His eye” and “May the Lord open”, if it would grant her some measure of connection with the women around her.  
  
Ofwilliam focussed on slowing her breathing. She focussed on Blondie’s hazel eyes, and her own reflection in them.  
  
Once her breathing was slow again, Blondie offered her the smallest of smiles - a quirk of her lips, just at the corners, where the piercings weren’t - and closed her eyes. They still had over half an hour to lie in silence.  
  
Ofwilliam closed her eyes as well, and hoped it would pass quickly.


	5. Self-Actualization

“Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social security and is entitled to realization, […] of the economic, social and cultural rights indispensable for his dignity and the free development of his personality.” UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 22  
  
Self-actualization: the realization or fulfillment of one’s talents and potentialities

* * *

“Ofwilliam,” Aunt Mary called, drawing the Handmaid’s attention from buttoning her red dress. Her hair was wet from her shower, and her hair was cold under the now-damp cap, making her hands shiver and slowing her down. She looked at Aunt Mary to show she was paying attention, “You will be coming with me, this morning,” Aunt Mary said. “Finish your buttons and come along.”  
  
Ofwilliam glanced around at the others, who all studiously did not look her way. Only a few of the original Handmaids of the month remained - Blondie had been taken in the first week, and several more the second. This fourth week, the only remaining Handmaids were Ofwilliam, and the two who had been brand-new when she arrived - in testifying, she had learned their names were Ofmark and Ofglen.  
  
The Handmaids were always removed separately, though, so she doubted she would be able to take comfort in the presence of Ofmark or Ofglen. They were still dressing with the rest of the girls.  
  
Ofwilliam just hoped that this wasn’t another piercing, or a punishment. She buttoned the last of the red buttons on her waistband, and walked to Aunt Mary’s side, keeping pace behind the slower and older woman as they exited the gym. For a moment Ofwilliam was afraid that they were re-entering the piercing rooms - but the unlabelled door Aunt Mary opened led to a small, spartan but otherwise normal lounge room.  
  
Aunt Mary entered, instructing, “Close the door behind you, dear,” and Ofwilliam carefully did so. By the time she had, Aunt Mary had returned with some kind of red fabric.  
  
“Put this on,” Aunt Mary said. She held it up against Ofwilliam’s neck, the lowermost curve just covering Ofwilliam’s lips. Ofwilliam held it in place and felt as Aunt Mary clipped it on tight.  
  
It didn’t hurt, against her now-healed lips, but it well and truly hid them. Aunt Mary looked her over and nodded once. “You’ll be wearing that while in the sight of the Wives and Commanders of DC,” she said. “It is forbidden to be seen without it,” she added sternly.  
  
Ofwilliam nodded once, and Aunt Mary looked pleased.  
  
“You’ll be meeting Commander William Taylor and his Wife in a half hour,” Aunt Mary said. “If they find you agreeable, you will be in their home tomorrow. Your next ceremony is four days after that,” she said.  
  
Ofwilliam supposed that was one of the benefits of rank. All Commanders could set the rules for what kind of Handmaid they would receive, but they would not meet the girl before she was brought to their house. Here, Commander Taylor and his Wife could… do what, she wondered? What was the point of a meet-and-greet with a mute Handmaid?  
  
Aunt Mary directed her to the red spot on the floor. “You will stand there,” she said. “Show me your posture,” she commanded.  
  
Ofwilliam adopted the Handmaid posture - hands clasped in front, head down, deferent and submissive.  
  
“Good,” Aunt Mary said. She took a seat in the single chair, leaving the sofa free for the Commander and his wife. She pulled out a pencil and a clipboard, and began making some notes.  
  
Ofwilliam distracted herself for the remaining time wondering what it took to become an Aunt. They were evidently considered incorruptible - they could read, write, speak, go anywhere, all alone! But there had to be a catch. She had no idea how they were selected, nor what any of them had been before Gilead.  
  
The moment of daydreaming was broken by one an Eye dressed in all-black opening the door. A man and woman entered. From Ofwilliam’s Handmaid pose, she could only see their shoes; the man wore leather business shoes with black trousers, which was standard. The woman wore a mid-calf length blue dress which settled elegantly around her legs, and small heels.  
  
“Ah, Commander and Mrs Taylor, lovely to see you again,” Aunt Mary said. “This is - if God is Good - your new Ofwilliam.”  
  
Mrs Taylor walked closer, until her skirt dominated the view from Ofwilliam’s downcast eyes.  
  
“Look up,” she commanded. Ofwilliam did, cautiously meeting the woman’s sharp blue eyes. “Blue eyes,” the woman said. “Good! And her hair is brunette, too. Nice enough features. She looks a lot like me,” Mrs Taylor said. “Well done, Aunt Mary! Exactly what we wanted.”  
  
“Oh, excellent,” Aunt Mary said warmly, “Third Handmaid’s the charm!”  
  
“I trust she’s well-behaved,” Commander William Taylor said. He had a deep voice, with a hint of a southern accent, but it did not give his age away. His tone was warm and casual, and he was probably charismatic, although Ofwilliam couldn’t be sure without looking at him.  
  
“Of course,” Aunt Mary replied. “Only the most disciplined make it through the training here,” she said, “but if you have any problems with her, as you know, give me a call immediately.”  
  
As Aunt Mary and the Taylors discussed arrangements, Ofwilliam looked at the beautiful blue shoes on Mrs Taylor’s dainty feet.  
  
The shoes were conservative, with a thin, short, dainty heel. Thick, practical heels were the only shoes allowed for Econowives and Aunts, in Gilead. Marthas and Handmaids were not permitted even those - they got standard issue uniforms, and they wore what they were given. But Wives were free to stylise their clothes; they could wear different cuts, fabrics, textures, accessories… so long as they were in blue.  
  
That freedom had seemed so small to Ofwilliam, when she had seen other Wives, in brief glimpses at the old training centre. More often than not they seemed visibly upset with the Handmaid they were taking - whether the individual or the concept, it didn’t seem to matter.  
  
But Mrs Taylor wasn’t a passive listener in the conversation; she did most of the talking, discussing living matters and protocol with Aunt Mary. Her husband added his agreement at the important moments, but otherwise kept quiet.  
  
“We have decided that she should assist in chores in the garden,” Mrs Taylor said. “She can work on the front - I work on the back. But no kitchen work - sharp implements, you understand,” she said.  
  
Aunt Mary nodded and wrote down the details carefully. Ofwilliam found the requirements inane. She was not allowed to enter the kitchen, but was allowed to garden; she would be confined to her room when there were guests; she was not to enter Mrs Taylor’s rooms except for the Ceremony; on and on…  
  
As Mrs Taylor and Aunt Mary mapped out her life for the next few months, Ofwilliam wondered how far Mrs Taylor’s choice really went. Would the Wife have prevented this entirely, if she could? Was her ideal life the Gilead picture - a house full of children, an obedient handmaid, a powerful husband - or something different?   
  
Ofwilliam looked down at her feet, in their brown standard-issue boots, on the red carpet. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen herself wear shoes like Mrs Taylor’s - she’d never been a person who cared about shoes a lot, but she would’ve worn something like that on a special occasion. Maybe a job interview - when she was dressing to send a message, ‘I am professional’.  
  
Her jealousy was sudden, absolute, and a surprise even to her. She was jealous of a woman whose own husband would likely report her to have her hand mutilated if she read a book. She was being silly.  
  
As the Taylors and Aunt Mary finished up, Ofwilliam stayed still and quiet.  
  
“Well then, she’ll be delivered tonight at seven o’clock,” Aunt Mary said. “I’ll make sure she has been taught the rules before she arrives.”  
  
“Excellent, thank you so much,” Mrs Taylor said sweetly. They opened the door and were directed out by an Eye guarding the corridor. For a moment, Ofwilliam could hear the sound of Mrs Taylor’s heels clicking along the floor. Then the Eye closed the door behind the departing couple.  
  
“Well done,” Aunt Mary said to Ofwilliam, “Come along, we’ll get you back to class. You’ll pack after lunch,” she added.  
  
Ofwilliam felt a little numb, as she was led back. Another Aunt - the second-most-familiar one to Ofwilliam, whose name was unknown - was giving a lecture to the Handmaids in the classroom. They knelt on the floor in neatly spaced points.   
  
Aunt Mary brought Ofwilliam to a point at the back, and Ofwilliam knelt where she was led. She had heard a few of the graduation announcements before, and knew what was coming next. Aunt Mary cleared her throat.  
  
The other Aunt finished her speech on sin and gestured for Aunt Mary to speak.  
  
“Ofwilliam was just approved by her Commander,” Aunt Mary said. “She will be leaving us to go on to her holy work later today. Let us pray for her success!”  
  
With that, the nameless Aunt took over, taking a deep breath to begin a prayer.  
  
“O Lord, may you make this Handmaid worthy of her holy duty,” the Aunt said.  
  
Ofwilliam mentally prayed her own prayer. 

_O Lord_ , she thought, _may you make my Commander slow to anger,_

“Make her worthy of your blessings,”

_Make the Commander’s Wife feel kindly towards me,_

“and Lord, may she be fruitful,”

_and Lord, may I be empty, unfeeling, unseeing for what happens to me._

“Amen,” the Aunt called joyfully.


End file.
